


Is It Easier to Swim Down?

by butyoumight



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: M/M, reference to canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sleep, and food. Food, and sleep. Food he was beginning to understand, though he still found he preferred takoyaki over any other food.</i>
</p>
<p><i>But sleep? Sleep, he hated. He hated the whole concept, and especially the damn... Visions. Dreams. Nightmares. So many words for something so stupid, so </i>inconvenient<i> and </i>pointless<i> and...</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Painful.</i>
</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Alain is having trouble sleeping. Post episode 28, currently canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Easier to Swim Down?

_For the crime – I thought no one died in this world! - killing the Grand Emperor – Follow your heart when you are lost. - I told you – Don't let my ideals bury your heart – I'd protect you..._

_Capture Alain..._

_Even if you don't believe in anything – Your world isn't as perfect as you thought it was. - My feelings.._

_Alain..._

_I believe in you._

_...Have reached you..._

_...I love you._

_...and execute him._

-

It was dark, and Alain couldn't breathe. 

Jerking upright, he clawed at his throat even as he convulsed, trying to gain just a wisp of breath and choking for the effort. 

For a moment he was back home, facing his brother for a final moment before everything fragmented, shot through with darkness, and faded away. As he felt the sensation that he would later compare to pain, though it wasn't pain, technically... He couldn't, shouldn't be able to _feel_ pain in that form. But it _was_ pain, _he_ was pain, the experience of his entire existence _shattering_ -

He heaved inward again and this time the invisible vise closing around every part of his body loosened a little and he managed to grasp just enough air to give him the clarity to _move_ , he had to move before he woke the others. 

Pressing his back against the wall, he slid carefully to his feet. It was still dark, but he remembered where he was now. The spare room at the temple. All the usual furniture had been moved elsewhere to make room for the three... they called them futons, and they were for sleeping. 

Sleeping, Alain was learning, was possibly his new least favorite part of being human.

_I told you I'd protect you._ Alain choked on his next helpless gasp, and clasped both hands over his mouth and nose to try to contain the inevitable sound. 

The futons were lined up side by side, filling the whole width of the room. Kanon was furthest from the door, curled up on her side, knees tucked to her chest and her arms folded up under her head. That was how she always slept, except for when she wasn't feeling well. 

Next to her was the empty futon that Alain had just vacated. The blanket was tangled into something much more resembling a rope. The pillow was against the far wall, next to the door. He must have thrown it. It was a wonder he hadn't _already_ woken the others.

The longer he sat in the dark, his throat tight and his eyes burning, the better he was able to see through the dark in the room. Not just knowing they were there, but actually seeing them there. Safe. Human, and safe. 

Makoto was nearest the door. He'd insisted on that much, at least, that he would be the first line of defense, if the worst were to happen. If Adel or any of his minions were to follow them here. 

They must not have, because Makoto was still fast asleep. Stretched out on his stomach, legs akimbo. He folded his arms beneath his head the same way Kanon did. His breaths were slow and steady and regular. 

Alain fixed his eyes on the small of Makoto's back, the narrow strip of pale skin visible where his shirt had hiked up in the night. The way it flexed and relaxed with each inhale and exhale cycle was visible, and regular, and it gave Alain a pattern to mimic. Slowly, the frightening sensation of his heart beating in his throat was subsiding, the clenching feeling in his lungs and throat starting to let go. 

Kanon made a small sound in her sleep and rolled over onto her back. Makoto turned his head, his lips parted, and his next inhale also sounded a faint vibration in the back of his throat. 

Suddenly, the dark and the sound of breathing and the walls were too stifling, too much for him to handle. Alain pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled slightly before he regained his balance, regained his poise and cautious steps. The room felt so small, the walls too close, he couldn't be bothered to stop and grab his boots or put them on. In bare feet, he skirted Makoto lying across the doorway and stepped out into the hallway. Then, without any hesitation at all, he proceeded into the central yard of the temple.

_Don't let my ideals bury your heart._ Alain stumbled as soon as his feet touched the grass. It was wet, the grass. He hit the ground hard on hands and knees, and his hands closed into fists, grasping at the grass in hopes that it might help his head stop spinning, stop his heart from aching so sharply.

He took several deep breaths with his eyes closed. He envisioned Makoto's back again, slow breaths in, the soft vibration in the back of his throat, slow breaths out, the tiny wheeze at the top of his nose. It worked, for a moment, but then the dark room, the tatami floor and the futon were replaced by red dirt and dead weeds and patches of fire. Makoto fragmented at the edges, his eyes were wet and his face was bloody and he was falling apart and there was nothing Alain could- 

Alain scrambled back to his feet, damp now from his knees to his ankles, blades of grass stuck to his palms. He took a few shaky steps, then slowed down and tilted his head back, eyes wide open. The blue sky, Earth's blue sky. He'd heard people say the sky at night was black, but it wasn't, it was blue. Still so blue. That helped clear the image from his mind. If only he could keep it that way- out of his mind. If only he could never have to see that, _any_ of that, again. Every time he shut his eyes...

A pained laugh escaped him as he marveled at the fact that every one of those horrifying memories that made him choke every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried even for a moment to rest... All of them were people fading away, flowing through his fingers. Dying, in or in spite of his eternal utopia, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. 

He let out a breath and it was shaky but the next inhale was enough to clear his mind a little. Clear his head. He blinked a few times, and rubbed fiercely at his cheeks with both hands, replacing the tracks of hot salt with cold dew and stray grass. 

Alain knew he should go back, back into the temple, back to his futon. He should lie down and close his eyes and let himself sleep. He knew, at least he'd been told, that he needed to sleep. That the reason he couldn't fight very well anymore was because he wasn't taking proper care of his human body. Not just because of the plots Igor was undertaking, not just because he'd been beaten again and again. Sleep, and food. Food, and sleep. Food he was beginning to understand, though he still found he preferred takoyaki over any other food.

But sleep? Sleep, he hated. He hated the whole concept, and especially the damn... Visions. Dreams. Nightmares. So many words for something so stupid, so _inconvenient_ and _pointless_ and...

Painful. 

His feet and legs were leading him somewhere without his entire awareness. He didn't have anywhere to go, he had promised several of the humans that he wouldn't wander too far from the temple alone. Not anymore, not while he was still, in the logical woman's words, _adjusting_ to being a human. Not to mention, of course, the unspoken awareness they all shared – that Alain was marked for death. His days numbered, his life forfeit. 

Adel was... Obsessive. Convinced that what he believed wasn't just right, but _necessary_. He was strong, he had Alain's entire world on his side. It was only a matter of time before he succeeded. Maybe Makoto didn't believe that, and neither did Takeru... Kanon... All of them thought he might be able to evade, escape, and survive. 

But Alain knew better. He knew he only had a limited amount of time. So, sleep? Sleep wasn't very high on his list of priorities. Maybe he couldn't fight well if he didn't care for his body, but what did it matter? The sooner he could be done with this, the sooner Adel achieved his inevitable victory, that was all the sooner the others wouldn't be responsible for him. The sooner they could stop getting hurt... Because of him. 

Adel would keep fighting, of course, but Takeru and Makoto were strong, and they had firm beliefs to carry them through impossible odds. Alain had seen that, again and again. When they were fighting him, and now as they tried to defend him. Without any burdens – himself, Makoto's body... They could win. Alain believed that. 

They might not even have to fight. If he remembered to give them Sanzo and Grimm before he lost... He might not even have to. The two Eyecons had developed pretty significant self-motivation without him. They'd know, and when the time came they'd go to where they belonged. 

Alain stopped moving, and turned his head. He didn't know where he was. He hadn't been walking that long, but he seemed to remember several inclines... A flight of steps. His feet felt cold and raw, he had left behind both grass and dirt at some point. He was standing on stone. Strange, rough stone. There was an odd scent on the air, something heavy. Smoke, but not like the insidious scent of burnt fabric or the harsh smell of a burning patch of dry grass. This was a special kind of smoke. 

He frowned, and looked around. There were stones everywhere, but they weren't rough like what was under his feet. They reminded him of monoliths- like the one he'd started to build, or the strange one in the temple basement. They were smooth, polished. Engraved with symbols- letters. Japanese, he recognized it and could even read... Some of it. Some of the stones had flowers around their bases, not growing but placed there in pots, presumably there for that precise purpose. 

Only one of the monoliths was currently emitting smoke, from a small space in the base of the pillar. This one had the most flowers around the foot of the monument, as well. 

He stepped closer to it, down off the paved path and into cool, soft dirt. He recognized some of the symbols engraved, towards the top. The same as the symbols that were beside the main entrance of the temple. Tenkuuji. 

He lifted his hand slowly, and reached for the engraving, tracing the topmost letter with his forefinger thoughtfully. 

“Alain.” 

He started, his fingers catching in the engraving, scraping along the edge. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the spike of pain that shot through his hand and up his wrist. He looked at his fingers, and frowned at the slowly welling red. 

“Alain!” There was a scuffling sound to his left, and he turned his head. Makoto had his jacket thrown around his shoulders but it was unzipped, his arms were free of the sleeves. He was wearing the same sort of pants Alain currently was, gifts from the monk's acolytes. Alain couldn't tell the two apart quite yet, or rather, he didn't know which name belonged to which person, but they were always together anyway. The result of the borrowed clothes was that Makoto had a few centimeters of ankle showing between the hems and his slippers, which he'd had a mind to slip on before coming out here... Wherever here was.

“Are you alright?” Makoto asked softly, reaching for his hand. Alain almost pulled back, but then he recalled that he had no right to be so standoffish. Not with Makoto. Not with any of them, really, but especially his... His friend. His dearest, his best friend. Makoto had saved his life so many times, he had vowed to protect him. He didn't deserve such devotion, he knew that, but he couldn't make Makoto believe it. 

But he could try to earn some small portion of it. Instead of pulling away, he tensed up and went still, but he did hold his hand up and out, away from the strange monolith. He didn't know why, but it felt disrespectful to allow his blood to fall on something that was so clearly ceremonial in some way. 

Makoto clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking Alain's hand in both of his for a moment. “I didn't mean to startle you.” He said softly, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a scrap of cloth. “I figured you'd know I was there.” 

Alain sighed, looking away as Makoto put pressure on the cloth against his bleeding fingertips. “My powers of detection have suffered of late,” he admitted gruffly. Embarrassed. 

“You're not sleeping.” Makoto pointed out, curling Alain's fingers against his palm, prompting him to clench his fist to hold the handkerchief in place. “It can have that sort of effect.” 

“Inconvenient.” Alain muttered under his breath, turning to face the monument again. “And ridiculous.” 

Makoto chuffed a soft laugh. “You'll get used to it.”

“What if I don't want to?”

Above them, a bird gave a mournful cry and took flight. The sound of its flapping wings was deafening in the silence that followed Alain's words. He hadn't meant to say them, but he'd been thinking it all along. For days, now. Since he woke up in his capsule, chilled through and still trembling from the memory of how it felt to be destroyed by his own brother's power. Since he woke up on the ground after opening a portal to drag the others back to the human world, saving them both when he hardly knew why. Since Makoto handed him food and a drink and told him he should understand now. Over and over and over again. _What if I don't_ want _to get used to it? What if I just want it done?_

“Don't say that.” Makoto said after a moment. His voice was tight, his jaw tense. His teeth were clenched, and he bit each word sharply off from the next. 

Alain didn't have the energy, nor the desire, to lie to Makoto, or mislead him. Not anymore... No, not that he ever really did to begin with. “Why not?” 

The silence stretched out again. Alain could hear Makoto's breath sounding sharp. He looked over again and saw that Makoto had both hands clenched into fists, just barely containing a fine tremor. Alain smirked a bit. He couldn't help it. “Are you going to hit me again?”

“I might.”

Alain closed his eyes, taking a slow breath. Not that he expected Makoto to hit him, not right now anyway. He actually didn't want to be antagonizing Makoto like this, not when Makoto _should_ be sleeping, when he should be enjoying something that was obviously much easier for him, not to mention something he _wanted_. Something he _had_ wanted, for a long time.

“Alain.” Makoto said, his voice terse but soft. Begging a response, but open enough to let it go, if Alain decided he was done with the conversation. Makoto was always like that.

As if Alain was ever done with the conversation, when it was with Makoto. As if he could ever walk away from him for long. Especially as if he didn't feel like now, Makoto was nearly all he had left. 

“What?” He asked finally, knowing Makoto wouldn't continue speaking until he invited him to. Not because he felt like he wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to... not with Alain anyway. At least, Alain didn't think so. He hoped not. 

“You don't want to die, do you?” 

Alain turned his head sharply, looking up at Makoto. Makoto's eyes were averted, not looking at him. Alain followed Makoto's gaze, and figured he was looking at the strange monument. He was biting down on his bottom lip, and his eyes were sharp. 

“Not particularly.” Alain answered honestly, but knowing Makoto wouldn't accept that, he looked away before finishing. “But I don't see what difference it makes, what I want. I may as well accept it now.” 

Makoto let out a slow breath that shook at the end. He sounded... Weak. Hurt. “I said I was going to protect you, didn't I?” The pain in his words was so clear, it made the vise that had loosened start to close around Alain's chest again. 

He wanted to ask why. He wanted to demand answers. For Makoto to tell him what he'd ever done to deserve such protection, such devotion. How Makoto could even _start_ to forgive him for everything. Everything he'd done personally, all the trouble his world and his people had caused. Makoto and Kanon were both safe now, safe and human and free to make their own decisions. So _why_ , then, was one of those decisions always to _help Alain_?

Instead he just sagged, turned his head to look in the same direction that Makoto was still focusing. The monument. He took the handkerchief in his other hand, and shook out the tingle that had settled into his fingers from clenching his fist too hard for too long. 

“What is this thing?” He asked. It was a peace offering, and Makoto knew it. Alain only ever asked about human customs and earth things when he wanted to derail another conversation that was either too difficult, or too confusing. But it was effective, he learned something, and it was better than storming away. Especially since Alain didn't have anywhere to storm away _to_.

“It's a grave.” Makoto stepped forward, closer to the stone, and pressed his palms together in front of his face. Alain recognized the posture, though he wasn't quite sure where from. But he knew it was a way humans used to physically indicate prayer. 

Alain waited for Makoto to let his arms fall to his sides again, then stepped forward to stand beside him. His hand went out again, this time tracing the second symbol from the top. He kept his finger curled back, tracing the outline with his knuckle instead of his still raw fingertip. “What does that mean?” 

“It's, uh. It's a monument, to a person who has... Who has passed away.” Makoto paused, mouth working wordlessly for a moment. “You probably don't know what that means. It's a euphemism.” He sighed, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face. “It's a memorial, for someone who has died.” 

Alain pulled his hand back sharply, feeling even more disrespectful suddenly. “I touched it.”

Makoto let out a little laugh. “It's okay. It's not wrong. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.” 

Alain turned his head, looking up at Makoto's face. There were tears in Makoto's eyes now. The vise around Alain's chest tightened another notch. He wasn't sure what he had done this time, but he was sure he was somehow responsible. 

“Who...” He swallowed, feeling like there was something in his throat but knowing there couldn't be. He remembered how he knew the symbols at the top were read _Tenkuuji_. “Who is he?” 

Makoto lifted a hand to rub at his eyes for a moment. Alain wasn't sure if he was upset with _him_ , or just in general. Still, now that the subject had been raised, he wanted to know. So he waited.

“Ah. This is for Takeru's father. Tenkuuji Ryuu.” 

Realization dawned over Alain slowly. Takeru's face, when Alain had tried to apologize for leaving him behind... Only to have Takeru tell him he was glad he got to see his father. How genuine it had seemed, then, and how Alain had dismissed it. And then, Takeru's rage, and his sadness. Tears, cried for a man he didn't even know... 

“You knew him?” He asked, his words sounding strange, dry and brittle. 

“Well, of course. Kanon and I spent a lot of time here with him, and Takeru, and Akari too. When we were all younger. Before... Well, before we went to your world.” 

He said that part so casually, Alain could almost ignore the way he said it. He didn't want to distract from the conversation they were having _now_ , but he reminded himself to ask later, why Makoto acted as though they'd done it on purpose. 

He cleared his throat, and then smiled a bit when he realized Makoto was doing the same. 

“He must have... I suppose he died...”

“Ten years ago, actually. Not... I guess not long after we left.” There it was again, Makoto skirting around saying outright what Alain knew was true- that Makoto and Kanon had been forcibly dragged to his world, and then unable to escape. As good as prisoners, even if Alia had done her best to take good care of them. 

Alain bit his lip, bit down hard until a tingle of pain spread across his jaw. “He was very important to you?” 

“He took care of us.” Makoto said after a while. “Like your sister did.” 

Alain opened his mouth, was about to ask about _their_ parents, Makoto and Kanon's parents... The question was on the tip of his tongue when he bit it back. Makoto was upset enough. It was late, and Alain had woken him up. He didn't need to cause any more trouble. 

“I'm sorry. For your loss.” He said instead. “It must have been difficult... To come back and find out that he was gone.”

Makoto swallowed audibly and nodded his head sharply. “I wish I'd been able to say goodbye. But that's what this is for.” He gestured to the monument, the... Grave. “So we can remember him.” 

Alain nodded slowly and turned his head again, looking around. There were many of them, too many to quickly count. Even slowing down, letting a moment of deep silence spread between them, he couldn't start to number them, because the area in which the monuments were placed stretched out of easy view. “Each of these is for a person who has died?”

Makoto made a soft questioning sound, and looked out around them as well. “Yeah, they are.” A slow look of realization lit his eyes and made him look around and consider Alain seriously for a moment, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Would you like it, if we made one for your father?”

Alain hadn't considered the possibility until Makoto said it, but as soon as he did, he felt the vise in his chest loosen a few notches again. “ _Oh_.” He looked around at Tenkuuji Ryuu's grave again, and wet his lips. “Could we?”

Makoto smiled properly for the first time that night, and he stepped closer to Alain, putting an arm around his shoulders, careful not to dislodge his jacket as he did so. “We'll talk to Takeru and Onari in the morning. But I'm sure they'll understand.” 

Alain sighed, and allowed himself one small brief moment of weakness, leaning against Makoto and letting Makoto help him hold his weight. Makoto's stance shifted ever so slightly, in a way that was intimately familiar to Alain. Adjusting to share the balance and keep them both upright. Alain would do the same for Makoto, and he wouldn't even need to think about it. It was as natural as anything could be, as natural as breathing had turned out to be. 

After all the time they had spent training together, learning one another's moves by heart, figuring out how to be in the same place and yet not getting into each others way, not cutting one another off... So much time spent with Makoto providing the only interest Alain had ever known, they were just... Aware of each other. Perfectly. Innately. 

He straightened, taking his weight on his own legs again, and turned his head to look up at Makoto. Makoto was still looking at the grave, giving Alain a chance to examine his profile. Makoto's lips were pursed but he didn't have tears in his eyes anymore. Alain took that as a good sign. 

“We should go back to the temple.” Makoto said after a moment, as he took his arm from around Alain's shoulders. “You should really get some sleep, you know.” 

Alain felt his entire body stiffen slightly. The vise clamped down again, and he bit back a choked groan of frustration. Makoto turned towards him completely, reaching out and grasping Alain's shoulders, sudden concern creasing his features. “What's wrong? Alain?”

“I can't sleep.” Alain admitted flatly, his voice tight. His throat felt like there was a hand around it, squeezing. Not like the vise on his heart, this felt... more personal somehow. “I can't sleep. I don't want to.”

Makoto's expression shifted again, his concern turning a bit sharper. “Why not?”

Alain's lips parted, and he let his mouth hang for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer that without lying to Makoto, how to be honest with him, when he wasn't even sure knew for himself. 

“Alain. Answer me, please.” Makoto pleaded in a soft whisper. Alain hated to hear him sound like that. It sounded like...Like...

_My feelings... have reached you.._

Alain shuddered and closed his eyes hard, took a deep shaking breath and then threw his head back to exhale at the stars and the dark blue sky. 

“I can't stop thinking. About everything that has happened. Your Eyecon failed... So did mine, not too long before that. And my brother keeps trying to kill me...” Once the words started, he couldn't seem to stop them, so he just let the pain flow, keeping his eyes fixed on a star directly above his head. “I don't know why he wants me dead. And he _did_ kill my father, my _father_ , and I held him as he... As he died. He's dead. None of us were ever supposed to die, and now my father is _dead_ and gone and I didn't... and I... I can't. Stop. Thinking. And the _pain_. Makoto. The pain won't _stop_.”

He was panting when he finished, his breath coming sharp and feeling harsh in his throat. The words dried up as his eyes overflowed with tears, hot tickling trails tracing down his cheeks to roll off his jaw. 

Hardly a moment had passed before Makoto was pulling at him, holding tight to his shoulders and pulling him closer. Alain's bare feet shuffled through the dirt as Makoto pulled him against his chest and closed his arms all the way around him. One hand pressed, palm flat and fingers spread, against Alain's back, rubbing wide circles. The other hand cupped the back of Alain's neck and directed his head down to rest against his shoulder. Alain didn't know what to do, so he just did what came naturally- he kept crying. He let all the pain and fear and confusion go and sobbed, openly and brokenly in a way he didn't even understand, while Makoto whispered soft reassurance into his hair. 

Alain wasn't sure how long they stood like that while he cried until his body seemed unable to keep doing it. He wasn't sure if there was a limit to tears. That was how it felt, but that didn't seem to make sense, since tears were water and salt and other human things that surely he couldn't _run out of_... Well, eventually the tears seemed to dry up. His throat felt raw, his head felt twice its usual size, he couldn't breathe through his nose anymore... But the crying was done.

Makoto was still whispering and soothing, but now that he was done crying Alain could hear and understand what he was saying- _it's okay I know you're fine it's alright you didn't do anything wrong it's okay get it out I love you it's okay you're alright you're safe I know I know you're okay just get it out_...

After another few moments, Makoto let his words fade into quiet humming, and then into silence and a slow deep breath that Alain found himself mimicking reflexively. A few more breaths like that, and Alain was starting to feel quite a bit calmer, though his head still ached strangely.

“You alright?” Makoto asked quietly. 

“I suppose.” Alain answered honestly. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, echoing inside his head because of the odd way his nose was blocked. “What was that?”

“It just happens sometimes.” Makoto said, and his voice was shot through with a tone of utter fondness. “When you've been through a lot, which you have. Sometimes you just have to... Let it out. You usually feel better afterward. I don't really get how it works... But I'm sure there's some scientific explanation. You should ask Akari.” 

“I think I do feel better...” Alain admitted. 

Makoto nodded. He was still holding onto Alain, still had his arms around his shoulders. “It's okay if you're still confused... Afraid... Any of that. But maybe... Maybe now you've let it all out, do you think maybe you could come back to the temple with me, and try to sleep again?”

Alain blinked a few times, considering the question. He wanted to keep being honest with Makoto, but it was still very hard to do when he wasn't sure what the truth was.

“I know it's hard to believe,” Makoto continued, now with a touch of pleading in his voice. “But trust me, if you can just get some rest, everything will be a lot easier to think about, and to deal with. Okay?”

“I suppose I can try.” He took a breath, his eyes squinting shut again, and then his next question came out in a fast rush. “Did you say you loved me when I was crying?”

Makoto's head jerked back while the rest of his body stayed still. “You... I... Did you... I mean, yes. I did. You heard it?”

“I did. It's alright, isn't it? I... I care about you, too.” 

Makoto blinked a few times, and then smiled. Alain hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time. Too long. The vise didn't just let go, it disappeared completely. He could breathe again, he was okay for now. 

“Alright. I'll try to sleep. Let's go back to the temple.”

Makoto laughed a bit, and then looked down at Alain's feet. “Would you let me carry you?” 

Alain looked down as well. His feet suddenly started to ache- or rather, they had already been aching, but now that everything else was starting to fall away, he could feel it. He smiled, and then laughed. “Yes, Specter. You may carry me.”


End file.
